The Warrior's Code
by hiboucanning
Summary: A member of the Japanese yakuza is found dead. Jane and Maura investigate this latest homicide with the help of Maura's mysterious new intern, Sam.


© 2012 hiboucanning

Disclaimer: All characters that exist in the _Rizzoli & Isles_ universe belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, and TNT. I only own the creation of Samantha Chan, the Shinada family, and the plot of this story. Any resemblance of these characters and/or the plot to other stories or whatever happens in the books or post-Season 1 of the show is purely coincidental.

Author's note: This is my first fanfic ever. I'd never felt compelled to write anything like this until R&I came along! I wanted to write a story that could theoretically be a real episode of the show, so as much as I personally love Rizzles, the subtext is fairly minimal. I guess the story would be set after Season 1 since there are some references to previous events. (I haven't watched Season 2 so if anything has happened that render details in this story no longer relevant, sorry! And please don't spoil me by telling me about them.) I know it might be difficult for anyone but myself to care about a new character, but please read and review.

* * *

THE WARRIOR'S CODE

* * *

It was eleven o'clock at night in the Boston financial district. A Japanese man in his fifties sat at the desk in his hotel room with only the dim green glow of the banker's lamp lighting the room. His face was ruddy with inebriation; beads of perspiration covered his forehead and his eyes were watery and unfocused. He twirled a _sai_ in his right hand in agitation.

He heard footsteps outside the door and blinked hard. His left hand was shaking as he poured another shot of _sake_.

A double knock at the door.

He threw back the alcohol, dribbling some down his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and answered in Japanese, "_Come in_." He hadn't bothered to lock the door—it wouldn't have stopped them anyway.

One man entered the room; the other stayed in the doorway. "_Took you long enough_," sneered the man at the desk.

"_Traffic was bad_," said the one in front.

The man at the desk adjusted his white-knuckle grip on the _sai_, then growled deep in his throat and ran at the intruder. The two men fought spiritedly while the third watched from the doorway, smoking a cigarette with nonchalance.

A heavy thump rattled the paintings on the wall. The man who was at his desk a minute ago was now twitching on the floor beside the king-sized bed, blood dripping out of his mouth and staining the carpet. The _sai_ was thrown onto the floor beside him.

"_Goodbye, you sonofabitch._"

* * *

Detectives Jane Rizzoli and Barry Frost arrived at the historic Ames Building on Court Street. Housekeeping had found the body in the morning and the police had been notified amidst hysterics. Now, the entire block was cleared of traffic by cruisers; an officer was on guard outside the hotel entrance blocked off by police tape. Rizzoli and Frost entered the building and took the elevator up to the seventh floor. Other members of the homicide team were already on scene taking photographs and dusting for fingerprints, including Jane's brother, Frankie.

"Well, this isn't so bad, as far as murders go. You should be fine," Jane teased her partner. She looked over her shoulder at Frost, who had turned green and was struggling to suppress his gag reflex. "…Really?" asked Jane.

"The eyes… I hate it when their eyes are open," mumbled Frost, "I'm gonna go check the surveillance tapes." He ran out of the room, trying not to vomit on the runner.

Jane rolled her own eyes and surveyed the area, putting on a pair of nitrile gloves. She picked up the bottle of _sake_ and sniffed. "Smells normal, but let's take it back to the crime lab to test for poison," she instructed an officer nearby. Then she crouched down to examine the body. She noticed the _sai_ beside him and joked, "Heh, where are the other Ninja Turtles?"

"Hey, Raphael suits you, Janey—he's moody and aggressive, just like you!" said Frankie, coming over.

"Shut up," said Jane, standing up to punch her brother in the arm. "Come on, let's get the body back to the morgue for Maura."

* * *

"Dr. Isles?"

Maura looked up from the body she was examining, surprised by the intrusion. A young Asian woman was standing at the glass doors to the entrance of the morgue.

"Hi, I'm Sam. I'm your new intern."

Maura furrowed her brow and tilted her head, trying to remember the relevant conversation. This appointment had slipped her mind in light of the latest homicide case. "Oh, yes! Samantha Chan… I read your paper on the 'Comparative analysis of venom toxins in _Crotalus_ spp.: implications for Viperidae phylogeny and evolution.' You wrote that paper as an undergraduate student? That's very impressive."

"Thank you," said Sam, slightly uncomfortable yet pleased with the compliment from the renowned chief medical examiner.

"You're not at all what I'd imagined," Maura said candidly. Despite being a genius, she still hadn't grasped the concept of 'tact'.

Sam smirked. She was dressed simply but professionally, in a black button-up blouse, grey jacket and slacks, and black dress flats. But her body lent a striking juxtaposition, making it obvious that these clothes were not her everyday attire: Sam wore short purple hair and heavy black eyeliner; she had a right eyebrow ring and two cartilage piercings in her left ear. Trailing tattoos were peeking out from beneath her sleeves, ending with thick silver rings on both hands. "It's just for show," she said placidly, as she walked into the room and stood beside the 'dead table.'

Not one to be prejudiced by appearances, despite her regular admonishing of Jane's (lack of) fashion sense, Maura smiled and said, "Well, grab a lab coat and a pair of gloves and let's get right to it."

* * *

Upstairs in the police investigation room, Frost was at the computer retrieving information about the victim. "Driver's license from his wallet said Toshiyuki Murakami, but prints also identify him as Kazuo Shinada. I looked up Shinada in the database—he was previously indicted for tax evasion and insurance fraud," summarized Frost.

Detective Korsak walked in and stood beside Jane, who was sitting on the edge of the desk. "Don't you know who the Shinadas are?" he asked Frost brusquely, taking any opportunity to criticize the young detective. "They're one of the oldest families of Japanese mobsters, the _yakuza_."

"How do you know that?" asked Jane, looking at her old partner and mentor curiously.

"I once worked with a guy who specialized in Asian gang activity," said Korsak, "the Shinadas in Boston run an import car business as a front."

"Check it out," said Frost, displaying bank records beside the mug shots of Shinada on the multi-screen system. "He recently deposited $2.9 million and then moved it over to an offshore account under the name 'D. Matsuzaka.' Must be a Red Sox fan."

"Think he just screwed over another family? I am so not looking forward to dealin' with another gang war," Jane said in exasperation.

"If the Shinadas are involved, it's bad news," replied Korsak, "they're said to be especially ruthless when it comes to 'business transactions'."

"Video cameras at the Ames Hotel captured two men in balaclavas. Facial recognition software hasn't been able to match any suspects in the database yet," said Frost, "but I'm working on it."

Jane bit her fingernails in contemplation. "Maybe Maura has some good news."

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

"Well, cause of death would appear to be the three-inch puncture wound to the neck. Barely missed the jugular… but the relatively small amount of blood lost is strange," replied Sam.

"Blood tests revealed normal platelet levels," said Maura, "tox screens were clear for all drugs known to increase blood clotting. And the _sake_ in the hotel room was clean. No signs of cardiac arrest or stroke."

"The wound seems to have partially re-sealed," Sam observed, "this doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" Maura asked.

"The alleged murder weapon was a _sai_, right? Quite unusual in itself, considering the _sai_ is a defensive weapon with a relatively blunt tip. But when used for offensive strikes, it would indeed be effective for stabbing," said Sam, demonstrating with the scalpel.

"Please don't do that."

"Sorry," said Sam, putting down the scalpel. "But this wound is flat and narrow, unlike the traditionally round shaft of a _sai_. I don't think it was used to execute this—no pun intended."

Maura didn't understand the pun, but chose to ignore it. "You're right," she said, producing an evidence bag containing the weapon of discussion. She held it by the handle so that Sam could see the shaft. "That's also what I noticed during my initial exam. Unfortunately, any genetic material from the suspect has been contaminated by Shinada's blood—the lab only found one DNA profile. So, the murder weapon is still missing… Excuse me, I need to call Jane."

"Looks like this was caused by a small, single-handed weapon, perhaps with a four-inch blade," Sam muttered to herself, racking her brain for possible candidates. As she inspected the other lacerations on Shinada's body, her eyes fell upon a reddish-brown stain near his right ear, somewhat camouflaged by the jet black hair belying his age. As she moved these hairs out of the way, her eyes widened with comprehension.

"Dr. Isles!" she exclaimed, "I know what we're looking for!"

Maura put down the receiver and quickly went over to the intern. "What are you talking about?"

"There's a chunk of flesh missing from his ear, a very clean cut. Both this and the neck wound are consistent with _kunai_ throwing knives. Ask Detective Rizzoli to look for a two-centimeter hole in the wall for confirmation."

"Of course," said Maura, walking back to the phone. "The spinning trajectory of the knife would've created the leading edge of his neck wound. Sam, are you a weapons expert?"

"I wouldn't call myself an expert, no," replied the intern, blushing. "More like a connoisseur of Asian combat arms."

"How interesting," said Maura, looking at her young protégé with wonder and self-reflection, while the latter eagerly expounded on the history of Japanese weaponry.

* * *

It was six o'clock in the evening by the time Rizzoli and Frost returned from their second visit to the crime scene. Frost had collected a piece of the wall surrounding the entrance hole, hoping that the computer lab could narrow down the specific type of _kunai_ knife used, and hopefully, their list of suspects.

Jane was already starving, as usual. She strolled down to the morgue, wondering what delicious treats Maura might be willing to share, despite her own misgivings about eating food stored in the 'dead fridge.'

"Hi, Jane," Maura greeted her friend and colleague, as she washed her hands at the sink. "This is Sam, she just started a six-month internship with me. Sam, this is Detective Rizzoli."

"Nice to meet you, Detective," said Sam, disinclined to shake hands with her soiled gloves. Nor was she inclined to stand next to the detective, who stood a full foot taller than her.

"Hi there," said Jane, looking over the little 'punk rocker' in the bloody lab coat. "Is this a high school project or somethin'?"

Sam's face darkened. "I'm 24," she said curtly, "I just graduated from Boston University with a Master's degree in forensics."

"Oh… sorry," said Jane, as Maura made an incredulous face at her. "But hey, it's always nice when people think you're younger than you look… right? I wish I still get carded at the bar."

Sam forced a smile and humoured the detective with a brief nod, then walked away to clean the surgical instruments. Jane saw that she was having difficulty reaching the disinfectant on the top shelf of the cabinet and went over to lend a hand. "Need a lift?" she asked jokingly, walking up behind the short Asian girl.

"No!" cried Sam, spinning around and backing away, looking fiercely at the detective. "No picking up!" she reiterated as she searched for a stepstool.

Jane looked at Maura helplessly and shrugged her shoulders. Maura held up two fingers and mouthed, "Twice in less than five minutes!"

Jane sighed and said, "So… who's ready to call it a day?"

"I am. Let me grab my coat," said Maura, turning to go to her office. Jane tried in vain to telepathically beg her friend not to leave her and the new kid alone together.

After several awkward moments, Sam was the first to break the silence. "Is there, like, a strict dress code here?" she asked, looking in Maura's direction.

Relieved at the break in tension, Jane laughed, "No. If it were up to me I'd wear sweatpants every day. Maura just likes lookin' pretty."

"I guess it's even more satisfying when she can go home and kick off those crazy shoes," said Sam.

"Nah, that's what she looks like at home, too."

Sam raised an eyebrow and gave the detective a sidelong glance, smiling to herself and musing about the inevitability of 'office romances.'

* * *

The women returned to Jane's house with take-out for dinner. Jane handed Maura a glass of chardonnay and grabbed a cold bottle of MGD 64 from the fridge for herself. She wasn't much of a wine drinker, but liked to keep a bottle or two around for her friend. As for Maura, she generally had more expensive taste than whatever Jane offered, but appreciated the thought nonetheless.

As soon as Jane unwrapped her lobster roll, Joe Friday came running up to her feet, wagging her tail ferociously. "No!" Jane scolded. Joe Friday sat down and looked up at her master, whimpering softly. Jane tried to ignore the little dog; a moment later, she tore off a piece of the bun and handed it to the unabashed beggar.

"You really shouldn't give bread to dogs, Jane," said Maura, smiling in spite of herself. She liked the gentler side of her friend that few people get to see.

"You should talk," answered Jane, "you set aside spinach from your salads for Bass."

"Yes, but I always ensure that there's no salad dressing on the leaves I give him. That bun is high in sodium and saturated fat…"

"Hey, no science talk at the dinner table. You're gonna ruin my appetite," warned Jane through a mouthful of French fries. "So, how are things going so far with your minion? She's a testy one."

"Jane, she's not my minion. And she wasn't 'testy' at all to me—she's actually quite pleasant. Polite and eloquent. You must bring it out of people."

"Thanks, Maura."

"Anyway, it's going really well! She's very capable and extremely bright…" said Maura, picking through her organic mixed greens salad for the baby bocconcini.

"But…?" Jane looked at her friend inquisitively, noticing the pensive expression on Maura's face.

"This is going to sound silly, but I was hoping that my first intern would be more dependent on me. I wanted to impart wisdom," said Maura in her innocent way that made Jane smile. "But Sam already understands a lot of the principles. She hardly needs my help."

"So you feel like she's just using you for the facilities?" laughed Jane, who enjoyed teasing Maura immensely.

"Kind of!" admitted Maura, a little sadly.

"Sweetie, there's no way in hell that kid knows more than you do," said Jane, reaching out to squeeze Maura's hand. "That brain of yours could hold more than the universe."

"Oh, Jane, you know that's physically impossible," said Maura matter-of-factly, but comforted by her friend's support.

* * *

It was ten o'clock at night when Maura decided to return to work for a few biochemistry reports that she wanted for some light bedtime reading. The lights in the crime lab were on and she could hear deep bass notes thumping from the stereo all the way down the hall. She pushed open the door to the lab, unnoticed by the intern working at the fume hood and headbanging along to the music.

"Hey!" yelled Maura.

Sam started from the unexpected encounter and almost spilled the vial of ethanol she was holding. "Oh! Hi, Dr. Isles. I didn't think anyone was here," she apologized, wheeling over to the stereo and turning down the volume.

"It's okay," said Maura, "but you might want to keep the volume down, for the sake of your own ears." She tilted her head and listened to the music. "Metallica?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "You're a fan of Metallica?" she asked in awe.

"No, it's not really my style. I'm more of a classical music enthusiast. But even I can appreciate James Hetfield's skillful guitar solos."

Sam stared at the chief medical examiner with ever-renewing wonder, marveling at the breadth of her knowledge and interests.

"So, what are you up to?" Maura asked the intern, pointing to the late-night experiment.

"I couldn't stop thinking about other potential causes of death. And then when I was in the shower I realized… um, I considered that the murderer may have used some kind of natural toxin, like in snake venom," Sam said, avoiding Maura's gaze. "I mean, I have an affinity for this topic…"

"Hmm. We didn't screen for the active ingredients of snake venom. The lab found an abundance of disrupted red blood cells, but I'd assumed that was due to the post-mortem collection of the blood samples," said Maura, frustrated with herself.

"I swabbed the broken skin on his throat and also took a sample from the apex of the wound. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I tried this test," Sam explained. "I hope you don't mind," she added sheepishly, as it suddenly dawned on her that she had taken liberties in Dr. Isles' lab.

Maura felt conflicted. On the one hand, she was impressed with Sam's critical thinking skills; on the other hand, she silently reprimanded herself for being unable to develop the same hypotheses. But she remembered her conversation with Jane earlier, and only said, "It's fine. Just be careful when you're working by yourself. Try not to set the building on fire."

As thoughtless as Sam can inadvertently be sometimes, especially in the rapture of a scientific 'Eureka!', she did not fail to notice the tone of Maura's words and was sufficiently chastised. Seeing the worry in the intern's eyes, Maura added gently, "Go home, this can wait until tomorrow. I look forward to seeing your results."

* * *

When Maura arrived at work the next morning, Sam was already in the crime lab, completing the toxicology test that she had begun the night before. "Good morning, Dr. Isles," she said, stifling a yawn. "The results are in. Both samples came back positive for _Trimeresurus elegans_ hemotoxins."

"The species account for _T. elegans_ is woefully inadequate, but it appears to be uncommon. Whoever had access to the venom must be familiar with the Okinawa region," said Maura, who had done some research when she got home the night before.

"Whoever had access to the venom wanted his victim to die slowly and painfully," Sam said harshly, "the _kunai_ knife wound was meant to heal on purpose so that Shinada wouldn't bleed out before the hemotoxins could destroy his system."

"Sam, don't let this get to you," said Maura, concerned by the anger in Sam's voice. "There are, unfortunately, a lot of bad people in the world. But you're helping to bring them to justice, and that's highly commendable."

Sam did not appear to take consolation in Maura's speech, but stared past the chief medical examiner, lost in thought. Maura reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Come on, let's go upstairs for a coffee. You don't look like you slept much last night."

* * *

Sam inspected the tar-like substance in the carafe with distaste, and settled instead for Lady Grey tea. She made a mental note to explore the neighbourhood for quality espresso; perhaps there was a Peet's nearby. While she and Maura were debating the optimal Arabica to Robusta ratio for French press brewing, Detectives Rizzoli and Frost appeared.

"'Mornin'," Jane mumbled, reaching for a _venti_, or 'Rizzolified,' cup of coffee.

In contrast, Frost was bright-eyed and eager to tell the team what he had discovered about the _kunai_ throwing knives from the crime scene. Then his eyes fell on the stranger at the table and he momentarily forgot what he was going to say.

Maura noticed Frost's gaze linger on her intern and grinned. She loved encouraging romance, no matter how unlikely the couple—and in spite of Jane's vehement protestations whenever she tried to set her friend up with some guy or another. "Detective Frost, meet Sam, my new intern. She's really smart and has a keen interest in weapons."

Jane instantly recognized that look of mischief on Maura's face and did not hide her own annoyed expression. Sam looked at Maura in bewilderment, then smiled at Frost and extended her hand, "Hi. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," said Frost, appreciating the firmness of Sam's handshake. Her hand felt tiny in his own, which he found very cute. Maura allowed him extra time to admire the young woman by giving the detectives a debriefing of the morning's lab results.

"So, Frost," said Jane, finally interrupting his reverie. "Any news on the knife marks?"

"Yeah, we got lucky on this one," replied Frost, as he opened his laptop. "The walls of the Ames Building are made of sandstone—soft, as far as rocks go. The computer lab was able to not only distinguish the shape of the blade, but they found this…" He pulled up a digital image of the reconstructed knife and zoomed in to an etching at the base of the blade. "Looks like some kind of logo…"

"Oh! I've seen that symbol before," said Maura. She ran out of the café to the puzzlement of the others. Maura came back with the _sai_ from the evidence locker and showed them the hilt. Sure enough, there was a clear engraving of two snakes coiled together.

"That's the insignia of the Shinada clan," whispered Sam. Everyone around the table looked at her. Frost was particularly impressed; Jane regarded the intern carefully.

"So they used Kazuo's own weapons against him?" inquired Jane.

"I don't think so. These knives weren't listed in his collection under insurance. I checked out all the Shinadas in Greater Boston. Two candidates showed up as promising leads," said Frost, pulling up their profiles on the computer. "And whaddya know—they're all brothers, including Kazuo."

"Kaito and Kenji Shinada," read Jane, rising from her seat. "This whole time we'd been looking through rival families for suspects; turns out it's one of their own. Let's go pay them a visit."

* * *

Detectives Rizzoli and Frost mobilized to the Shinadas' business location at the edge of Chinatown. Several plainclothes officers were placed nearby in case there was any trouble. Jane pushed open the door, causing the Hello Kitty bell attached at the top to tinkle. The young receptionist with dyed blonde hair and fake eyelashes looked up from her smartphone. Jane noticed the surveillance camera in the corner and a set of _katana_ on the wall; she wondered if the swords were authentic or merely decorative. She entered the office with a hint of swagger and casually adjusted her jacket so that the police badge on her belt could be seen. The receptionist looked mildly apprehensive and cleared her throat, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. We're looking for Kaito and Kenji Shinada," said Jane, with Frost standing behind her.

"They're not here right now."

"Where are they?" asked Frost.

"I… don't know," stammered the girl under the intense stare of the detectives.

"We're gonna take a look inside," said Jane, walking toward the 'Staff Only' door without waiting for permission. Before the receptionist could say anything, they heard a door slam at the back.

Frost grabbed his radio and called the units outside, "Suspect leaving the premises from the rear. Move in!" Jane and Frost split up: Jane ran through the office while Frost retreated out the front door and circled around the block. Jane chased the suspect into the alley, but he had a good fifty yards on her and quickly disappeared around the corner. However, when Jane exited the alley, she found Kaito Shinada lying prostrate on the ground with Frost's knee in his back. He had tackled the suspect from the front, hitting his solar plexus and leaving him winded. Frost wrested Kaito's arms around his back and handcuffed him.

Jane knelt down and searched his pockets for concealed weapons. She felt a bulge at his ankle and pulled out a set of _kunai_ throwing knives with the incriminating Shinada symbol. "One down, one to go. Where's your worthless brother, huh?" she snarled.

But Kaito remained tight-lipped, unwilling to commit treason like his deceased brother.

* * *

The detectives left Kaito cursing in the back of the cruiser while they walked up to Kenji Shinada's purported residence that Frost had found in the police database. "I hope he's not a runner, too," said Jane, ringing the doorbell. Nobody answered. She rapped on the door and listened for any noise within. Jane nodded at Frost; they removed their guns from their holsters and took a few steps backward. Frost then lunged forward, kicking in the door. Jane moved in first, her gun at the ready. There was nobody in the living room, but a cigarette was still burning in the ashtray on the coffee table.

Jane checked every room on the main floor while Frost investigated the bedrooms upstairs. In the windowless den, Jane found an assortment of traditional Japanese weapons, neatly organized by size. Each of them bore the Shinada family insignia. On the walls were portraits of venerable-looking men: deceased Shinada patriarchs and previous _yakuza _leaders.

Frost returned downstairs with a handful of bloody bandages from the bathroom. "Looks like Kenji took some damage recently," he said. "Nothing else up there except a giant stack of anime porno videos."

Jane grimaced at his latter discovery and walked to the kitchen, where the door to the basement was located. "He must know we're here. Be careful," she warned her partner. She turned the knob as quietly as possible, then yanked open the door. Frost aimed his gun down the stairs; no movement was seen within the red glow emanating from further in.

Jane took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Ever since her first encounter with 'Dr.' Charles Hoyt, she had been justifiably reluctant to venture into dark basements. Frost glanced at Jane's face and understood. "I'll go first," he whispered. He took the steps one at a time; when he was halfway down the staircase, a bullet whizzed past his leg. Frost ran down the rest of the steps and hid behind a filing cabinet; Jane stayed close to the top, waiting for an opening. While Kenji was focused on Frost, shooting erratically in his direction, Jane inched down the stairs and took one shot into Kenji's shoulder, making him drop his gun. Frost used this opportunity to charge at the suspect, kicking the gun out of reach.

"Nice shot," he said to his partner.

Jane turned on the light at the bottom of the stairs and surveyed the basement as Frost handcuffed their second suspect. Without his weapon Kenji offered little resistance; he had a sickly pallor and was sweating profusely, gripping his abdomen—Kazuo had pierced him a couple of inches deep with the _sai_, missing vital organs but nevertheless causing his younger brother excruciating pain.

Chemical apparatus were laid out on a long table in the middle of the room. The red glow that they saw belonged to the heat lamps warming a row of terraria along the wall: they contained various species of venomous Japanese snakes, including _T. elegans_. "Ugh, I hate snakes," Jane said sullenly, glad that none of the gunshots had cracked any tanks. A particularly feisty one struck at her in response from behind its glass prison.

* * *

Jane and her team returned to the police station, along with the suspects scowling in handcuffs and the wealth of evidence against them. As they progressed through reception, she noticed Sam across the room by the elevators, watching the Shinada brothers with uninhibited hostility. The women's eyes met for a second before Sam turned around and walked back to the morgue.

"Hey, take them to the holding cell," Jane instructed an officer, following the intern downstairs. "Sam," called Jane, catching up with her in the hallway. "I've been meaning to ask, how did you recognize the Shinada logo?"

"This is the age of the internet, Detective," Sam said with a hint of condescension.

Jane paused to scrutinize the shorter woman. "The timing of your arrival here was very convenient," she said.

Sam looked hard at the detective, clenching her jaw. "What are you trying to say?" she challenged.

"I think there's something you're not telling us," retorted Jane, crossing her arms.

Sam observed the detective's body language carefully, noting the obvious disapproval but relieved that she wasn't about to reach for her gun. She glared at Jane for another minute before conceding, "I might have a vested interest in this case."

Jane had suspected as much, but she still felt a twinge of disappointment on hearing this admission. "How are you involved in all this?" she asked. Sam looked away defiantly and didn't speak. "Sam, what do you know?" demanded the detective.

The young woman took a deep breath and sighed. "My grandfather was Renosuke Shinada, first-born son of Ryou Shinada, head of the Shinada clan in Okinawa. I don't know what my grandfather did to piss off the _yakuza_ but at some point they all wanted him dead, including his own family."

Maura heard the women arguing in the hallway and came prepared to act as mediator; she figured it was another clashing of strong personalities. Jane saw her friend come out of the lab and gave her a meaningful look. Maura didn't say a word, but stood to the side, listening.

"Renosuke changed his name and escaped to Hong Kong, where he met my grandmother. He led a relatively peaceful life as a mechanic for thirty years," Sam continued. "Then one evening, while he was babysitting me, they found him."

"Who did?" asked Jane quietly.

"Ryou Shinada and his two youngest sons. They broke into the apartment and bound and gagged my grandfather. My grandmother screamed and held me close; I was only three years old. We couldn't escape. They made her watch as they cut off his fingers, one by one, for every time he betrayed the family," said Sam, her voice breaking.

Jane and Maura looked at each other in disbelief. Jane wanted to reach out and comfort the young woman but she resisted this maternal impulse, and only watched with sympathy as Sam trembled from the effort of relating this story aloud.

"Then Ryou drew a _shuriken_ from inside his jacket—"

("A ninja star," Maura explained to Jane.)

"—and threw it straight into my grandfather's forehead. It didn't kill him, but a few moments later he keeled over in tremendous pain. I didn't understand it then, but now I know that the _shuriken_ must've been laced with highly concentrated snake venom."

Maura gave a barely audible gasp as she realized how Sam had come to suspect Kazuo Shinada's actual cause of death, and why she had been so upset about the toxicology results. She started to put her arm around the intern, but the latter withdrew from her touch. "Sam…" Maura began.

"While my grandfather was writhing in pain on the floor, Ryou came over and tore me out of my grandmother's arms. He said, 'Never forget, _akachan_, you're a Shinada' and then he did this—" Sam unbuttoned her blouse halfway, revealing the faint but unmistakable scars of the insignia branded on her chest.

"Oh, my God," whispered Jane. Tears began to form in Maura's eyes.

"Not only was my grandmother constantly tortured by the memory of these scenes, but she had me and this scar as a reminder of her dead husband. After two years of loneliness and suffering, she took her own life.

"My parents decided to start over… to begin a new, anonymous life in America as a regular Chinese family. But how could I forget, when I saw this symbol every time I looked in the mirror!" cried Sam.

After a moment of silence, Maura spoke. "Did you know the _yakuza_ was planning an attack? Is that why you applied for the internship?" She felt deeply for Sam's tragic family history and understood from personal experience, but she was also troubled by the mysterious background of her new employee.

"There were rumblings online about the missing money, difficult to distinguish above the usual blather… Would you have hired me if you'd known who I was?" asked Sam in return, reading her mind.

Maura replied with a despondent look on her face, unable to say "yes" without feeling that it might be untrue. Though she hadn't technically lied about her identity, Sam nonetheless felt ashamed of deceiving the good doctor in any way. "I'm sorry for not being forthright with you. Both of you. I just wanted to find out more about my past."

Jane looked at Sam ruefully, wishing she didn't have to ask, and desperately hoping she wouldn't have to take action. "Are you here to avenge your grandfather? Because you know I can't let you do that."

"No," Sam said firmly, to the relief of both the detective and the chief medical examiner. "I have nothing to do with Kazuo's murder. Ryou is already dead – heart attack at age 82, one year after he murdered my grandfather. I don't know who's in charge now, presumably Kazuo's father. Good to see they have such a strong history of betrayal and vengeance—nice family traditions," she said sarcastically, disgusted with the Shinadas' cruel methods of retribution. She punched the locker beside her, sending a clanging echo through the hallway.

"Sam, maybe this was your past, but it's not your present and it's certainly not your future," said Jane emphatically, taking hold of her wrist to prevent her from punching again. "You are nothing like these men. You have a good heart, no matter what's written on your body." She touched the raised skin of the scar, feeling Sam's quick heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

Sam had been living and reliving this nightmare for two decades; whenever she thought of that night, she felt her heart hardening to those macabre events—and everything else in life. No tears have fallen from her eyes since she was fifteen years old. But now, as Jane touched her, an upwelling of emotion threatened to spill over. She looked up at Jane and felt like her heart was breaking.

Jane saw the pain in Sam's eyes and wrapped her arms around shorter woman. "It's okay…" she whispered, kissing the top of her head. Sam leaned into the detective and sobbed into her shirt, finally learning to let go of the past. Jane and Maura looked at each other, neither quite sure what to do now, but both hoping that Jane's words will come true in the end.


End file.
